Boeuf Bourguignon
by SpellboundWinter
Summary: Christophe's mother leaves out of town and the Frenchman makes some of his special soup. The special kind that's nearly 90% wine and nothing else. So, what would happen if Rebecca invited herself over and the two shared a few bowls together? Drunken confessions ensue of course! What's the worse that could happen? ChristophexRebecca or Remole.


**Merry Christmas to everyone! Happy Hanukkah (even though it ended yesterday) and happy Kwanzaa... well, happy Kwanzaa _tomorrow_. Thank you to everyone who's supported me. I've had a lot of fun this year. It's been a fun ride with you guys :)**

**RebeccaxChristophe or ChristophexRebecca or Remole.**

* * *

><p>Even the strongest people need someone to console in.<p>

When in doubt, Christophe went to Gregory. He wasn't older by any means, but he was more like the brother he never had. He was a person he could secretly find solace in and learn from. When he wasn't being a complete asshole, Gregory would give him solid advice, such as this:

'Pay attention, snail slurper. I'll only tell you this once. There is an invisible line between being friends and being _more_. And to clear things up, _more_ doesn't exactly mean _lovers_, nor does it guarantee a happy ending. It's a mushy grey area. Many cross over it almost unknowingly. Sometimes feelings are mutual and sometimes feelings aren't communicated. But once you tell that person how you really feel, your friendship is officially over.'

Christophe tensed, reflecting on what the blonde brit had said.

'It's nearly impossible for two mature humans, male and female, to be close friends without leading into something more. And sometimes it simply can't work. Christophe, you fuck everything up. Just keep those pitiful feelings to yourself.'

The Frenchman shook off what Gregory had said and it only came creeping back. Feelings, who needs them? But, as much as Christophe hated to admit it, he was right. That smug bastard had a point.

A strong aroma of wine took over his senses. He glanced down to the slow cooker with the removed lid in hand. He could feel his mouth watering at the sight of the chunks of bacon, onions, mushrooms and the broth surrounding it.

Christophe stirred the stew again, relishing in the smell. He snatched up the last green bottle with the cork partially sticking out. The Frenchman gnawed the buoyant material out with his teeth, spitting it onto the floor somewhere for his mother to discover. He dumped the fourth full bottle of the red wine into the stew, practically drooling.

The man was an excellent cook in the sense he only seasoned everything with wine. Yup, that wasn't stereotypical of the French at all. He might have just added a whole bucket of snails into it too.

What was Christophe even doing?

He had the house all alone to himself and he was just making soup? His mother was off on a trip with her 'new American girlfriends' to go do shitty girl things and would be back whenever she felt like it. Her only one rule was, 'no girls'. As if he wanted anyone coming over to disturb him, let alone a woman and he was twenty and in college. _College_. Not being able to afford a dorm made things difficult.

That woman.

He could have been doing something actually fun, like going to dig in the yard to see what kind of rocky treasures he could unearth.

But this soup, it was beckoning him.

It was his calling.

Christophe lifted the ladle again, sipping the contents. He grinned to himself, muttering, "Fucking perfect. Zhe best in zhe whole world."

Just when he was about to take another spoonful, a knock on the door sounded. Christophe jumped, he wasn't expecting visitors… was it his mother?

Because he didn't feel inclined to share the soup with anyone.

He shuffled to the door, peeking through the peep-hole. And for good measure, he snatched up his shovel that was resting comfortably on the couch. He wasn't going to unlock the door for just anyone and he was going to be damn sure to check who it was. Fucking Mormon's last week kept harassing him about God and his 'calling'. That Gary character was something else.

He felt his jaw clench when he saw a certain brunette with red barrettes, fumbling with her hands. It took him completely off guard. What was she doing at his apartment? She wasn't one for surprises. She didn't just show up unannounced.

For a moment, it worried him.

Christophe unlocked the latches with a few motions, opening the door to the familiar face.

"M-Mole, greetings and salutations!" she cheered happily.

"Poodle." was all he said at first, "You could 'ave at least told me you were coming over. I would 'ave cleaned up and…" his eyes led to her rather large bag, "What's with zhe duffle bag?"

"I ho-hope I'm not bothering you by coming over. I ju-just thought you wouldn't be busy because you told me your mother isn't home and I-I wasn't busy today so… I th-thought I would surprise you.""

The mole leaned against the frame of the doorway, his lips rising in repulsion at the thought of the woman who gave birth to him. "Oui. My beetch of a mother iz gone."

Rebecca jittered again, clapping her hands together and looking away.

Did she kill someone or something? The girl was acting weird. But she kept standing there, lashes fluttering and doe eyes staring up at him. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder, "I did something y-you've always wanted me to do."

The man eyed the woman closely. Was it something about her? The woman looked a little different. Her hair wasn't as delightfully poofy as usual, it looked forcefully straightened. She dressed the same. Nothing about her looked different. Her attitude however… "What?"

Rebecca could barely contain herself as she squealed. "I-I… I lied!"

Christophe's eyes widened slightly. Rebecca Cotswolds? Lied? The cigarettes must have killed him because the girl _never_ lies.

"I told mother and father that I was spending the night at Tammy's." she snatched his hands up, chattering excitedly as she tugged him, "W-we can hang out and talk! Just us! No homework. No studying… w-whatever you want to do, we can do it."

Christophe's eyebrow rose at the last sentence. Whatever he wanted to do? Again, she was the naive one, she didn't mean it like that.

He moved, letting the smaller brunette shuffle inside. She placed her bag onto the couch, turning back to the man with a grin. "I-I hope you're proud of me. P-r-o-u-d."

He tossed his spade beside her bag, eyeing the woman cautiously. "I really didn't zhink you had eet in you."

"I-I practiced really hard in the mirror. I wanted to i-impress you."

Christophe felt sort of… flattered? He wasn't sure what to think. Rebecca was the little innocent one. Seeing her rebel was like seeing a puppy rip up a rug. Sure, it was bad… but it was still kinda cute.

Rebecca wandered off into the kitchen, disappearing inside. "A-are you cooking something?"

"_Boeuf Bourguignon_. I didn't zhink you were coming over." He scratched the back of his head nervously, feeling himself tense up at the fact he had a surprise guest. His close friend Rebecca, staying all night… It made him feel put on the spot.

He followed the woman into the kitchen, watching her remove the lid of the slow cooker. Sticking her head over it wasn't the best of ideas as she pulled away rather quickly. Her eyes watering and a small cough left her lips. He couldn't help but laugh as he sealed it once more. "Too strong for your American nose, poodle?"

"W-wow, it's really strong. S-t-r-o-n-g," she wiped her eyes rather quickly as the alcohol tickled her senses. "You've always been a great cook."

"You're probably better zhan me. Zhat old fashioned family of yours ztill holds women to cleaning and cooking and bearing children."

Rebecca bit at her lips, rubbing her arm awkwardly. He hit a bit of a sore spot. It was painfully obvious that her family was indeed old fashioned. Like, typical nineteen forties old fashioned. The housewife and the working man of the house… it was like stepping into the past when Christophe visited. Although, her family hated him with a passion, but she always found excuses to see him.

That little rebel.

"Want zome soup?" Christophe broke the silence and the brunette nodded mutely.

Christophe then dished up their bowls, finally being able to take his long awaited bite. The two sat like a bored married couple… silently enjoying a meal. "Well? 'ow was your day?"

Rebecca's eyes widened as she wiped her mouth curtly with a napkin. "It was alright. I mean, I-I guess nothing happened. Tammy and Lizzy gave me a makeover when I told them I would be visiting you," She gestured to herself. "I-I looked like a slut, so I changed."

"Zhe zlut look does not fit you. I like you as you."

He tried for a moment imagining her in provocative clothing and the mental thought even turned him off.

Rebecca face twisted as she continued to sip the broth. "This stew is… really strong. There must be a lot of spice in this."

The man grinned devilishly, lifting another spoonful up to his mouth, "You could zay zhat."

Soon, two bowls turned to four.

The poodle and the mole found everything a little funnier and their laughs filled the small apartment. The soup was abandoned in the slow cooker and the dirty dishes still laid out on the table, completely abandoned.

Rebecca wobbled, her hand bracing the wall as she continued down the hall. A stupidly large smile graced her lips, "L-Let's go to your room and ha-ha-hang out. I wanna look at your pretty rocks. R-o-k-s."

"Geodes." He corrected her, "And r-o-c-k-s."

Christophe found his bed, flopping back on his bed, fishing his phone from his pocket. He flicked through a few games, stopping at Minecraft. He only played it for the digging and rocks. Typical geologist shit, you see?

From the corner of his eye, he watched the woman wander around his room, examining the rocks scattered about along with the many shovels and one particular rusted pickax in the corner. Talk about organized chaos.

"Geologist make the bedrock, don't they?"

Christophe didn't have time to look up when he felt something flop into his crotch rather roughly, causing him to shoot upwards. Rebecca laid her back on his chest. Mumbling incoherently, she pulled his arms around her, his wrists brushing lightly under her breasts. She didn't try to move them. Rebecca just relaxed.

_Relaxed._

That was a first for her.

And the two continued to share a buzzed conversation, going back and forth. The two laughed and went on and on. Time slipping by.

"…and zhat's when I put zhe gay porn all over Gregory's room. 'is mother was zo pissed. She ztill zhinks 'e's gay!"

"You're so _bad_!" the woman giggled enthusiastically into her hands, watching the man twiddle his thumbs over the touchscreen. "Wow, you're really good with your fingers. I probably can't do it half as well as you."

"You know eet."

"Get it? Because it's like, a sexual innuendo and relating to you playing video games." She buried her face in his neck, busting into more laughter. "See? I can be funny too."

Rebecca tipsy had no filter whatsoever.

All of a sudden, the woman turned in the man's arms, grasping the sides of his face. She knocked the phone right out of his hands. She stared the man down, a light blush painting her cheeks. Leaning down, she kissed him.

Not the drunken kind of kisses where there was a mix of saliva and regret but a rather pure and chaste one. The woman pulled away, purring quietly, "I really, really like you." Rebecca's arms wrapping tightly around his neck as their noses brushed. "I've always really liked you."

Christophe seemed frozen, seeing the usual straight-laced Rebecca turn into a mewling mess. And a familiar voice echoed in his head:

'It's nearly impossible for two mature humans, male and female, to be close friends without leading into something more. And sometimes it simply can't work. Christophe, you fuck everything up. Just keep those pitiful feelings to yourself.'

He could either take Gregory's advice or not. It was a choice. End their friendship or keep it thriving? It was a choice he had to make as Rebecca brushed her lips against his once more. His eyebrows furrowed. Ugh, feelings… Who needs them?

Christophe pulled her away, cradling her shoulders. "Rebecca," He sighed, seeing the woman peer at him with a sort of enamored look. He brought a few calloused fingers up and tucked a few stray curls behind her ear. "'ave I ever told you zhat you are beautiful?"

"N-no." she sobered slightly.

"You are very beautiful," He wrapped his finger around a straightened strand, yanking it. "I 'ate when you mess with your poofy 'air or do zhings zhat you typically don't do zo try and impress me." The man brought her closer, nuzzling her cheek. "I... like you."

"Like-like?"

He snorted, bringing her closer. "Oui… Like-like."

…

Light.

Bright burning light woke him up from his sleep. Christophe jerked away, trying to turn his head away from it dozily but found himself unable to move. His eyes fluttered open, seeing incredibly poofy hair and lopsided barrettes staring back at him.

He mumbled, finding his hands on warm, smooth skin. Rebecca… He was holding her. Apart from his head killing him and feeling like shit, Christophe kinda felt good holding her.

And just when he started to enjoy it, Rebecca mumbled loudly, pushing herself upward. Christophe shot up as the woman plopped down on his crotch. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, yawning loudly. Until she brought her hands from her face. Eyes wide. Looking down to Christophe. The woman jumped two feet and darted from his embrace.

"Agh! W-what-" she continued to panic, "What the Sam Hill is going on?! H-e- double hockey stick!"

"Zhe soup… got us drunk?" he started slowly, itching the bit of stubble on his chin. "You at least. I was a little buzzed."

Rebecca eyes were wide as she held her mouth, screaming. "I was… _WHAT_?!" she brought her knees to her chest, hiding her face there, "…and I said all those things and I-I kissed you too."

Christophe thought fast, relieving the girl's embarrassment. He forgot to tell her about the wine in the soup… well, not really. If she would have known, then she would have just spat it out. Rebecca's old fashioned, you know?

"You obviously didn't mean it… right?"

"O-of course not… I was talking out of my head," she peeked her head up through her knees, "Did you?"

"…I guess not."

He didn't notice at first but the woman's face dropped considerably. Without another word, she rushed away, hurrying into the living room. With the Frenchman hot on her toes, she gathered up her duffle bag and attempted to straighten her hair with her fingers.

"Where are you going?"

"It was fun staying with you, _I guess_." She rushed to the door, grasping the doorknob. "But, I-I'll see you later… _I guess_."

She really took his words to heart. And the 'I guess' felt like little daggers into his forehead.

"…I guess." Was all he could say.

The brunette stomped out into the hallway and Christophe closed the door behind Rebecca, placing his hands into his pockets. He could only look at the hunk of wood in front of him in disdain. He took Gregory's advice but something had changed with them. Their relationship shifted into that grey area that he was warned about.

Rebecca wouldn't be his friend.

Their friendship was over.

What was he going to do now? Be close friends with Gregory? Yeah right. But she was gone. He was going to have to get used to the heavy weight and move on. Christophe was strong. He could do it rather easily-

A loud knocking disturbed his thoughts. He opened the door as the woman came rushing back into his arms, lips attacking his. He didn't even bother to shut the door as their lips mingled. Hell, she even left her bag outside. Christophe ensnarled her waist, pushing her small frame into the wall.

"I like you Christophe," she broke away, muttering. "A lot. I meant what I said."

"Likewise, poodle." He found her lips again, silencing her.

It seemed as though their friendship was ruined but neither of them cared.

"Christophe… Je suis de retour," a woman's voice echoed outside. The door creaked open, and someone waltzed in, holding a few bags. "Pourquoi est la porte ouverte-" She couldn't even finish her sentence as the woman's eyes led to the two. She dropped her bags along with her jaw. "_Christophe_!"

Hearing the familiar voice that split through his ears, he pulled away from Rebecca, composing himself. He found himself flushing when he noticed who the certain person was.

"Mother… Oh, sheet."

He ruined a friendship and broke a rule in the process.


End file.
